The King Hides His Pawns
by Snowflake Livecoal
Summary: When the sharp and charming Isabella Baker loses her mother, she is left in the care of her seemingly emotionless father and his dashing young friend, Jim Moriarty. In Isabella's eyes, Moriarty is too perfect. Just too perfect to be true.


**Hello dear Reader! This is my first story, and I hope you like it! I really appreciate reviews, so if you have a few things in my mind, you can message me :) **

I. She left and He came

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" I barked.

Suddenly the hospital corridor felt warm and tense. He took a step towards me, and placed his hands behind his back. For the first time, I saw his face contort in emotion - a mixture of worry, pain and sadness.

"I am here for you." he whispered.

"How exciting." I rolled my eyes as a batch of fresh tears form in my eyes. "Why?"

"Because I am your father and it's my-"

"I hope you understand that being a father goes beyond giving me a name." I snapped. He did not answer back.

I cried. I stood up and made my way back to the emergency room. I dared not look at his damn face as I walk past him but he grabbed me, rather gently, by my wrist.

"Isabel, your mother is gone and I'm the only one you have. For the love of God, please cooperate."

That was the moment I felt everything break.

"Cooperate? You want me to cooperate? Fine, _let's cooperate! _" I pulled my wrist back and faced him with as much strength and sarcasm as I can. "Okay. _I _stay here, take care of the funeral, finish my studies and live my life, while _you _pay for everything, scoot back to the hell where you came from, and leave me alone!" His jaw dropped in surprise and he took a step back.

"Oh, and say _hi _to Satan for me!" I said as I walked away.

I felt him walk briskly after me. "Why do you hate me so much?! What have I done to you?"

I stopped and faced him dead in the eye. "That's the point! You've done _nothing. _You did not do anything! You aren't there! You aren't anywhere! Where have you been for the last nineteen years? Oh that's right, nowhere! And now you face me like you've been here forever and god! I hate you!"

He did not ran after me.

My friends often say I should be thankful that at least he doesn't bother us. Easy. Easy for them to say, when they always had someone to bring in school occasions. Easy for them because they have someone to hand over their father's day card. Easy for them because they had someone to drive them to their proms, they had someone to watch movies with, and all that shit.

I was almost always alone. My mother had to work to pay for everything, while _he _left us, and left every responsibility behind.

The first and only time I saw him in flesh, not counting today, was when I got hospitalized when I was ten.

Seeing my mother's body, cold and immobile on a bed, made my stomach turn upside down. Just a few moments ago, I called her and told her I'll be home early and make dinner for us. A wrong kind of heat filled the pit of my stomach when I realized that I'll never be able to call her, or cook dinner for her and all I can feel is this pang of guilt that tells me I should've cooked more for her, hugged her more, kissed her more, and told her I love her more.

You should not have stepped out of the house, Mom.

You should not have thrown the garbage out, Mom.

You should have waited for just five more minutes before stepping out to throw the garbage, Mom.

You should have thrown yourself aside when you saw that damn car heading towards you, Mom.

You should have thrown yourself aside and saved yourself, Mom.

You should not have left me alone, Mom.

I love you, Mom.

I can't help but picture the scene in my head.

_I'm very sorry Sab! Your mom just went out to throw the garbage in the big bin outside when that car swerved down and crashed into your lawn and then right to Mrs Verne's fence. _

I pulled my knees to my face and just cried.

_Then we ran to the car and saw Fred – you know that Fred from the booze store? - and his head was all cracked and bloody. 'Fred's dead!' somebody cried. And Sandy and the others were huddled around your mom's body shouting that she might be dead to, but we_

I pulled my hair just so I could control wailing but I couldn't.

_wasted no time in calling help, and calling you and good Lord, we're very sorry for your loss Sab, and if there's anything, anything we can do, just tell us._

I looked at my mother again.

I knew this was stupid, and I knew this was incredibly insane, but I wished her hands moved. I wish she would grow warm again.

But she would never again smile at me, or laugh, or cry. And that thought makes me sick.

"I lost my mother when I was ten." I soft voice coming from the door distracted me from my thoughts. "But unlike yours, she was killed by a man, not by an accident."

"What makes you think she was killed by accident?!" I yelled. "And it doesn't change that fact that My. Mother. Is. Fucking. Dead!"

He kept a calm face as he glided into the room. "I know how it feels. And I'm sorry. But trust me, your mother won't be happy if she sees you yelling rudely at people."

I felt too exhausted to argue further, so I just pulled my knees closer wept again.

"Cry all you want Isabel, cry a fucking river, cry fucking blood." He handed me a silk handkerchief.

"I'm Jim. I'll be here."

His voice soothed me so much that I didn't mind him staying there for a few more minutes.


End file.
